


The Spirit of Truth

by Shae_C



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background f!Hawke/Isabela, Cannon Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Demons, Dorian being a badass, Friends to Lovers, Horror, M/M, Mystery, Slow Burn, Spies, Spirits, Thriller, background Skinner/Dalish, background Varric/Bianca, incredibly extraordinarily complicated relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-13 12:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12983829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shae_C/pseuds/Shae_C
Summary: Summary: Corypheus may have a sleeper agent among the inquisition, and after being mistakenly suspected, Dorian is given the task of rooting out the truth of the matter. But doing it alone would be nearly impossible, and Cadash's men can only help so much. Fortunately, there happens to be a qunari spy close at hand. Together with Bull, Dorian tries to uncover who the double agent is, if they exist at all, all the while he and Bull struggle with their own growing feelings towards each other. Meanwhile a Desire Demon seems to have taken a particular interest in Dorian, further complicating the matter, and alluding that betrayal may be closer than he thinks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nele/gifts).



> This came about from a discussion on twitter where Nele proposed a fantastic idea and spurred me to write something far longer than I've written in awhile. This idea grew a great deal from the initial concept, but I hope you like it and thank you for getting my rusty writing wheels back on the track. A big thanks as well to [Dichotomous_Dragon](url) for looking over the story and listening to me ramble about various ideas and all the encouragement.

“You think I could have had something to do with Corypheus's plan?!” Dorian snapped as he stared at the inquisitor, eyes blazing.

“Dorian, please, let's take this somewhere private...” the inquisitor raised his hands pleadingly, only to be met with a bitter laugh.

“Why? If you're so worried about the 'evil Tevinter' shouldn't everyone here know? They should be made aware of my intentions. We could make a sign. Pass out fliers for my public hanging.” he spat as he glared at the dwarf. Eron Cadash was an older man, closer to the age that Dorian's grandfather would have been, than the young adventurer he was always painted as. His face and arms were well scarred, and his glasses hung from a silver chain around his neck beside a gold coin. Dorian found they got along surprisingly well, and would even say he liked him.

He thought Eron liked him well enough too. Or at least trusted him. It seemed not even warning everyone's about Corypheus's ambush was enough to earn trust in the south. 

“I don't think...” Eron started then stopped. “Alright, I'm sorry. I should have told you about your father. I didn't know he would be there. I thought it was going to be someone with a message from him, but even then I should have told you.”

Dorian took in a breath through his nose; trying to count it out and reign his temper in. He got to the count of four before releasing it in a forced exhale. 

“Yes you should have.” he was still angry, but quieter now. “Maybe I would have gone. Maybe I wouldn't have. We'll never know now.”

“I shouldn't have taken that choice from you. I trusted faulty information over the man I know you are.” Eron sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. The library was quiet save for tapping of rain water against the window, and the sound of Leliana's ravens in their rookery overhead. No doubt there were several people straining to hear as well despite the late time of night. Not that Dorian cared. Everyone thought he was some evil mage after all, maybe this would only help the inquisitor if he sounded firm. 

“Why?” Dorian asked after a moment. “Why did you think...”

“I told you what happened when I went to meet with the Templars before the attack on Haven.” Eron said, taking a seat in a nearby chair. 

It was a small gesture, but one Dorian noticed. As the head of a Carta family, Eron was not unaware of the importance of standing or sitting in a confrontation. The way he sat, and seat he chose; a plain wooden one as opposed to Dorian's own preferred corner one, signaled he was giving Dorian power in the conversation. 

“The Envy demon I encountered there mentioned that Corypheus was planning to put someone on the inside to destroy us. Then all of a sudden a rogue mage shows up to warn of a coming attack from other mages? It seemed convenient to me...and yes I realize I took the word of a demon to have some truth to it, but lets remember I'm a dwarf. I didn't even start dreaming until this whole mess happened, let alone know anything about demons. It doesn't help the information about the Empress checks out.”

Dorian folded his arms, tapping his foot as he studied the aged man's face, silently prodding him on. 

“When Mother Giselle expressed concerns, and mentioned a letter...I thought it might be some kind of messenger from Corypheus in disguise. That perhaps your father was working with him same as your former mentor had been. I was wrong, and I caused you more pain.”

“How long have you suspected me?” Dorian asked, trying to swallow back any hurt he felt. 

“A few months after you first arrived. I kept watching for signs, even had some of my own people watching you.” he admitted. Dorian felt like he was being slapped in the face. All this time and he never knew.

“Your people are good. I wouldn't have known if you hadn't told me. Surprised you did.” 

“I had them stop a few months back. I trusted you by then, but when this happened, I didn't act like it. It's...I can explain my motives till morning, but that won't change what happened. All I can say is I'm sorry. I truly am. I will not make that mistake again.”

Dorian was silent, looking away from Eron as he shook his head. 

“I may take your assurances with a pinch of salt, but I accept your apology. It's the only real one I've had recently.” he didn't feel like talking about what happened with his father right now. “For now I think I'm going to drink myself into a stupor. If you'll excuse me.” he gave a curt nod, and turned before the inquisitor could say anything else. 

His footsteps echoed down the stone stairway, his fists clenched tight and he hoped to the Maker that Solas was asleep when he passed through his room. 

Why did he have to make his quarters in a place everyone needed to use to reach the upper levels? It felt like a personal insult. At this point everything did. How many other people believed he was Corypheus's inside man? Or rather how many people he cared about, thought that? He didn't have many friends here, but the idea that the ones he did have thought he would betray them, hurt. He'd already lost Felix because of the Venatori. Would rumors take everyone else now? 

“Stupid...this is what you get for trying to find reason in the south, Dorian Pavus.” he hissed to himself. Of course everyone had to be suspicious of him. Why not Blackwall? Bloody warden never talked about his past. Couldn't he have something to do with this? Corypheus was riding an arch demon after all! Or Varric? He and Hawke had met this darkspawn nightmare before all of this even started! Maybe it was the dwarf with the crossbow by the fire place! Or even simpler, why not Krem? He was another 'Vint to start. Magic or not, it wasn't as if every Venatori they fought was a mage. So he hit people with a maul instead of fire, but oh no, couldn't possibly be him. They even had a literal damned qunari spy in their ranks and still, still, Dorian was the suspect. 

He swore next time Sera wanted help with a prank, he was drawing up a list of people and procuring whatever substance she wanted, questionable stains be damned. That is if Sera herself didn't think he was some double agent. 

“Gahkgh!” Dorian slammed hard into a wall of muscle and fat as he turned the corner just out of Solas's room and hit Bull's chest full on with his face. 

“Whoah, big guy! Let me buy you dinner first.” Bull laughed as Dorian wheeled back. 

“Vishante Kaffas, Bull, how do you walk like that?!” he growled. 

“Sometimes with a limp. Depends on the weather.” he patted his leg with the brace. Though his smile fell as Dorian tried to shove past him. “Dorian, wait. Hey, what's wrong?” he caught the man's shoulder only to have his hand slapped away hard.

“Nothing! I simply am not in the mood for your asinine attempts at flirting.”

Bull held up his hands much in the same way Eron had, but he also took a step back, giving Dorian an escape if he wanted one.

“I won't say anything else like that. I'm only asking because you look ready to set something on fire.” 

Dorian was certain he looked like he might cry as well. He silently thanked Bull for not bringing that up. 

“I just might do that. Starting with those ugly trousers of yours. Why your men haven't mutinied over your fabric choice still astounds me.” he baited, giving Bull just the right chance to make an innuendo and let him get back to snarling. 

Instead Bull only offered a smile. 

“Makes their own bad choices look better in comparison I guess. Dalish is about the only one who I'd trust to dress themselves in something besides armor.” 

“Not even your resident tailor?”

“Krem's still a 'Vint. All of you have weird ideas about what makes an outfit. He used to do what you do with that one armed thing. Least it was sturdier armor.”

“Says the man in a one armed harness.”

“Hey I never said I didn't pick up bad habits from my men. I like to think we corrupted each other equally.” he beamed and for the first time that day, Dorian found himself laughing. It was weak, and it sounded like it might break any second, but it was real. Eventually it petered off and Dorian was left staring at the shadows on the walls. In the dim light, the shadows had a sinister look to them. 

“You don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to. But if you do...” Bull winced at the sound of explosions outside. For most the stone walls muffled the sound enough they could sleep, but for Bull, they might as well have been in the room. “They're testing new flairs that are supposed to work better in rain. Had to do it at night.”

Dorian looked up at the man, studying the tense lines of his face. They were only there for breaths of a second, but that was long enough. It seemed he might not be the only one in need of a drink. Bull never did well with the sounds of explosions off the field. He could guess it had something to do with Seheron. Bull had never talked much about it, but he had overheard a few conversations with him and Eron. 

“They always pick such opportune times to test it too. Let's wait till everyone is sure to be sleeping and see if we can't wake them all up.” he snorted. “Is your prized sapper out there with them?”

“Nah, Rocky has his own stuff. He offered to help them with theirs, but I think a few are still choking down their pride over a dwarf outsmarting their new noble inventions. That and he did blow up a catapult.” 

“Yet another reason Cassandra hasn't let you near one I assume.”

Bull grinned.

“Oh she hasn't, but Leliana agreed to let us use one. I don't know how, but Krem and Skinner talked her into it. Only thing we have to do is write 'Schmoople's Army' on the side, and tell her when to come watch.” 

Dorian blinked several times as he processed what Bull said. He was completely serious. 

“I need to see that.” 

“I'll keep you informed.” Bull nodded, wincing again at the sound of another flair going off.

“I was on my way down to the wine cellar. Care to join me?”

“Didn't Josephine ban you?”

“That's why I'm inviting you. You're going into the cellar, and I'm simply tagging along. Think of yourself as my inside man.” he said though it came out slightly more bitter than he'd meant. Of course the qunari spy was never thought of as being anything less than honest. The man who made his life before this as a professional liar. No, instead Dorian wore snakes on his clothes and everyone assumed he was one. 

Again, Bull ignored the chance to make an innuendo and just nodded.

“They got a shipment of some of that fancy Orlesian wine. I don't think they'll miss a few bottles.”

“You're strong enough to carry a crate.”

“I'm only willing to piss Josephine off so much.” Bull countered, a knowing look on his face. 

Dorian conceded with a nod as they walked towards the doors that led deeper into Skyhold.

“I do not say this often, Iron Bull, but those are the words of a wise man.” 

X

They were four bottles in when Dorian had finally broken and told Bull what happened. It started as a trickle of information. Old stories of his youth in Tevinter re-spun. Stories that painted him in a less than favorable light, as he told of his debauchery. The number of fights he'd gotten into in school, resulting in him being thrown out of every circle in Mintrathous. The countless men he'd bedded, including other Altus's, assistants, servants, Soprati, and men in brothels. He had even drunkenly asked his mentor to join him once when he'd seen him walking by. 

There was no end to the drinking either. Other substances were regularly used and abused, and there were entire weeks he had only vague memories of. 

“My father had to give up his seat in the Magisterium at one point. Ha! People sent assassins, but all they needed to remove Halward Pavus from power was his son!” he had laughed through sips of wine, trying to swallow the pain in his throat.

The more he drank and talked, the more he wondered if he wasn't at fault for what happened. After all if he had been good up until then, if refusing to marry Livia had been his only crime, maybe his father wouldn't have done what he did. Maybe he would have conceded if all he had asked for was that. He imagined scenarios where he had never crossed any other lines and made his father proud. Where the one thing he asked for and was stubborn on was granted, because everything else about him was perfect. 

Part of him was only vaguely aware he was telling Bull any of this, and he hated how easy this man was to talk to. By the sixth bottle, he had his head on his knees as he curled into himself. 

“Fuck.”

Bull was quiet.

“Fuck. Fuck him and fuck Tevinter. It didn't matter what I did, I wasn't willing to stick my cock in a woman and continue the precious line. I could have been fucking Archon...I could have been fucking the Archon, and it still wouldn't have been enough.” he was cold now. Despite all the wine, he felt incredibly cold and all he wanted was to sleep and pretend this never happened. He didn't want to be here. Not just in this cellar, but here in this country. He wanted to be home. He wanted parents like Felix had. Felix's mother had killed his grandfather for trying to hurt him, and his father approved. They adapted to his abilities and they were one of the few families he believed were genuinely happy. He felt so pathetic. A man in his thirties still aching for parents like some orphan on the street. He must look like a spoiled mess to Bull. 

“No it wouldn't.” Bull finally ended his silence, and Dorian felt a large warm hand on his back. The first real warmth he'd felt that night. “There are some people who are never happy. You can give them the world and everything they want, but they still want more. Even when there's nothing left, then they start demanding you give them the nothing too. They'll take husks over not having something offered to them.” 

Dorian looked over Bull. He had a distant look on his face for a brief second before looking back at Dorian. 

“The Qun also demands everything, does it not?” he wasn't sure he'd ever wanted to stuff words back in his mouth faster than that moment. 

Bull nodded.

“Everything and more. But the Qun gives back. It's...it's different.” he fumbled for the words, almost as if he were unsure about the exact equality of the transaction. 

Dorian made the last sober decision that night, and dropped the subject. He finished the last bit of wine in his bottle before throwing it at the wall. Shattered glass hit the floor, breaking further into splinters, and with a grin, Dorian raised his hand. All the pieces lifted into the air and began to dance, reflecting the light of the single candle. 

“Fancy trick.” Bull muttered.

“I call it mood lighting. I told you tales of my horrendous debauchery, but perhaps it'd be easier to understand if I showed you.” his movements were a mixture of shaky and fluid as he took hold of Bull's shoulder, swiftly straddling the larger man's waist. “So how many forbidden things do you want to do?”

He leaned forward ready to take Bull's mouth in his only to find a large hand clapped gently over his lips instead. He raised confused eyebrows and Bull was shaking his head.

“Oh no. Not tonight, 'Vint.” Bull carefully adjusted Dorian so he was further down his legs rather than right on his crotch. “I get having fantasies about seeing two of me, but not like this.”

“I thought you said your door was always open. Was that all talk? Or would you prefer me as a redhead.” another flash of magic and Dorian's hair, mustache and goatee, turned a shade of red that contrasted beautifully against his brown skin. 

“Okay, first, that's hot.” Bull had to acknowledge that. “But no. I don't think you're in the right frame of mind for this. Besides with how much we've both had I'm not sure we could keep anything up for long enough to have fun.” he shrugged, making himself the butt of the joke instead of only making one at Dorian's expense. 

“Don't tell me you're...”

“I said no, Dorian.” Bull said a bit firmer, though his hands were gentle on Dorian's shoulders, carefully guiding the other man off his legs. “I've fucked drunk plenty of times, but that's a different kind of drunk than this.”

Dorian opened his mouth to say something as he was sat back against a crate at Bull's side, then closed it. The glass shards fell with tiny plinking sounds against the stone. He rested his head back against the box, then let out a breath. 

“Bull.”

“Yeah?”

“Did I just climb on top of you?”

“Yep.”

“And use a horrible pick up line?”

“I've heard worse.” 

There was half a second of silence before Dorian groaned, holding his head in his hands, his hair now it's normal shade again.

“Kaffas, I'm not in control right now. I'm...” Bull cut him off, gently rubbing his back. 

“It's alright, Dorian. Lets get you upstairs and get some water in you. You'll feel better in the morning.” Bull said, but made no move to get up. “Just gonna stand up. Right now. Use my legs. Gonna...walk to the door...and up the stairs. Fuck that's a lot of stairs.”

“That is a lot of stairs.”

“I hate stairs.” 

“Fuck stairs.” 

Bull burst out laughing, his booming voice echoing through the room, and soon Dorian's own voice joined him. They began a chorus of 'fuck stair's', turning it into a song before they were both laughing so hard tears rolled down their faces. 

“Are we stuck here for the night?” Dorian finally asked, wiping at his eyes.

“Unless you want to go up stairs.”

“Fuck stairs.” Dorian laughed again and Bull did as well. The laughter petered out faster this time and Dorian found himself curling up into himself. 

“Cold?”

“I'm always cold here.” he huffed. 

“Come here.” Bull pulled him closer, draping an arm over Dorian's shoulder and pressing him to his side.

“I thought...”

“You're nowhere near my dick. This isn't fucking, you're just cold.”

“Fucking cold.” Dorian muttered letting Bull hold him a bit closer. Normally he'd have put up some kind of small protest, but right now in the quiet of this room, he was to exhausted to care. Bull was warm and right here. He was tired of being alone. The last thing he remembered murmuring was a soft 'thank you', before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional chapter warning: Depiction of the blood magic ritual attempted on Dorian.

_Dorian groaned as he turned his head against the cold stone floor. His head was throbbing, and his entire body felt all together to heavy. The worst part was the smell; making him feel sick. Alchemical powders mixed with the scent of rust and decay. It reminded him of a particularly remote brothel he had visited once on a dare. He'd won the bet, and spent the next week heaving up whatever swill they'd given him in a wine glass. The scent was worse here though, and as he began to come to, he could feel extra weight pressed against key points on his body. Cold metal bit into the flesh of his wrists, ankles and neck._

_He tried to move and found he was trapped in a kneeling position with his arms painfully extended at odd angles, and a strip of cloth wrapped tightly around his mouth._

_“I think he's finally coming around.” a voice said overhead and Dorian forced his eyes open; heart hammering in his chest. He knew that voice. A servant to one of his father's colleagues._

_The room he awoke in was dark, save for one candle that illuminated the speakers face. Dorian snarled through the gag. Yes it was him. Ilius. The man had sallow almost translucent skin, hair and eyes so pale they could have been their own light source, and his slender frame was draped in sharply angled robes. He had a jagged knife covered in blood at his side, and his smile was so pleasant it stood out of place._

_“Don't look at me like that, Dorian. I'm only here to help. We all are.” he took a step closer, nodding to light several other candles. As the room began to glow with a warm light, Dorian could see more of his jailers. They were all people he'd known. Either servants of his father's friends, or his father's friends themselves. Staunch old magisters, and younger ambitious ones. Servants either to beat down or indebted to complain at their sides._

_Dorian made no move to comment. It was pointless with the gag, so he chose to observe. Even as panic threatened him, he knew he had to stay calm. Calmness was the only thing that could truly save him now._

_“I know this must be confusing. Probably a bit terrifying, but you left us with no choice.” Ilius continued. “Your father is at his wits end with you, and it's starting to affect everything. You know he missed a vote in order to drag you out of that petty prison cell you landed in? Couldn't even get out of a Soprati holding cell, you were so drunk.”_

_There were murmurs of agreement and disapproval._

_“Granted they had no right putting their hands on you, but with the state you were in.” he shook his head. “They could hardly be blamed for thinking you were one of the common swill.”_

_More candles began to burn and Dorian noticed the room was taking on a red glow. He fought against the chains then. Calling on the fade and channeling his magic into the irons. It backfired, sending the sparks meant to break the chains right into him. That had worked before. He was certain of it. It had worked when he was last in this situation. Or he thought he had. He couldn't picture being here before, but somehow he knew he had been._

_“Did you really think that was going to work?” he laughed. “Probably. Caught you with your pants down and to much wine again.” he wagged his finger in Dorian's face and Dorian jerked forward, jaws snapping even under the gag's strain as he tried to bite at the man._

_He thrashed and snarled for several more minutes. Trying every spell he could think of, but nothing seemed to work. That was when he finally started to notice the reason his magic had been dampened and the source of red light in the room. Bodies littered the floor, arranged into several sigil's patterns. There were dozens. Some whole, some mutilated, some sewn together in bizarre ways in order to conform them to the proper symbol. Blood had been poured in similar strange patterns on the bodies, and around him. They even appeared on his skin making it burn and itch all at once. Most notably his forehead. Bile raced up his throat, soaking the gag as he tried in vain to wretch, only to be forced to swallow it back._

_“Please, the more you struggle the worse it will be. This will be over soon, and then you'll be the perfect son. That's what you want isn't it? That's what your father deserves.” Ilius gently touched Dorian's face, lifting his chin. He would not cry in front of this man, nor any of them, but he felt the ache in his chest._

_He wanted to scream and demand to know what they were planning to do. A magister he couldn't see began to read in ancient Tevene and then Dorian knew. The blood began to rise all around him like tiny snakes inching forwards. They bit into his legs, then crawled up his skin, spidering out like veins. They moved in tandem with the speed of the spell. Soon the entire room was chanting. Echoing in his head. They were in his head trying to claw something out and fit something else in. They were trying to steal his thoughts and wants. Put others in their place and if this killed him, they would take that too. He struggled and screamed through the bile and pain. He could feel the blood running further up him now towards the mark on his forehead. It was burrowing into him with tiny claws, adding more of his own blood to the sick display._

_'Father...make it stop...please...'_

_There was a thunderous crash as if the Maker himself answered and a large door flung off it's hinges crashing into one of the magisters and knocking over several of the candles._

_“Get away from my son!” Halward's voice pierced the room, along with ice that slammed into the mouth of another chanter; pinning him to the wall as it protruded through the back of his split skull._

_“Magister Pavus...” Ilius spoke but got no further before clutching his throat. His pale eyes bulged and he sank gasping for air as an invisible hand strangled him._

_Seconds later Dorian felt the chains split, his arms falling to his side and he managed to garner enough strength to wipe off some of the blood. The red tendrils seemed to scream as he scrapped them off and tore at the gag. Everything was moving on adrenaline right now, and just as he went for the chains on his ankles, his father split them apart from across the room._

_Halward's staff and magic danced in arches of perfect destruction. His father did not fight often, or at least not anymore, but this brought childhood memories back of when he had seen his father duel another magister. He still didn't know what the offense was, but it had come to a head in a public duel. That mage had resorted to blood magic. Only a minute later, Halward had finished a spell of his own, and with a snap of his fingers, caved the man's head down into his chest cavity. It was the same spell he used now on one of the older magisters._

_Two more were coming at him from his blind side._

_“NO!” Dorian screamed, and mutilated corpses rose at his command, latching onto the magisters robes, digging bony fingers into their flesh and pulling them down to the ground. They were ripped apart, their screams being drowned out by the sound of flesh being torn by hand. Dorian was up now and racing to his father's side, grabbing a fallen magister's staff and adding his own power to the fight. A boyhood fantasy had always been fighting alongside his father. It hadn't mattered what they were fighting. Bandits, monsters, demons or even a dragon. It was the fact they did it together._

_But those battles ended more gloriously in Dorian's head, then him beginning to collapse once the last opponent was dead._

_Halward dropped his own staff, grabbing hold of Dorian and easing him to the ground._

_“Dorian? Dorian! Look at me.” his father patted his face, forcing Dorian's focus on him. “Dorian, do you know who you are?”_

_“Yes.” his throat was painfully dry._

_“Do you know who I am?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Will you marry Livia?”_

_Dorian thought this was a terribly ill timed question, but answered all the same._

_“No.”_

_His father did the unexpected then and choked out a sob made up of relief and laughter._

_“No. He says no. After all this...still no. Thank the Maker.” he laughed and Dorian stared confused in the waning light. “They tried to change you. They...this is my fault.”_

_“You did this?”_

_“Not this. You know I'd never use blood magic! Least of all on my own son.” Halward looked hurt at the mere suggestion and Dorian felt guilt wrap in his stomach. “I was angry with you. Angry you wouldn't do what you were told, and I mentioned it to the wrong people. They thought they could win favors with me by 'fixing' you. Make you perfect they said.” his teeth grit in anger, and his grip tightened on Dorian._

_“How did you know?”_

_“I went to have it out with you at your lover's home. Yes, I knew who he was, don't look so surprised. They left a messenger there for me in case I arrived. Told me their plan and where I could pick you up after. Expected a pat on the head I think. I took it off instead.” he shrugged._

_Tears started falling before Dorian even realized they were and he curled up into his father. He wanted to believe this. There was nothing in his life he wanted to believe more than this, even as something in the back of his head screamed this wasn't right. Why wasn't it? Why couldn't it be? His father would never use blood magic. How many times had he called it a weak mans last resort? Halward Pavus was anything but weak._

_“I'm sorry, Dorian. I'm so sorry. I should never had said anything. I should never have pushed you to this extreme. You never acted like this until I started pushing. Dammit. That's over now. I'm calling off this marriage. You can come back home and I'll call for a meeting with her family.”_

_“But...you said...before...the line...” Dorian hiccuped and Halward shook his head._

_“Damn the line. You are my son. I swore I would never be the kind of father your grandfather was, and I did just that. I tried to force you into what I wanted...I'm sorry. Kaffas, Dorian, I'm so sorry.” he stroked his hair, crying himself as he rested his head on Dorian's. They stayed like that for several minutes before Halward cleared his throat as if coming back to himself. “Come on now. We're both a mess, and if anyone catches us there will be scandals for months.”_

_“Red was never your color.” Dorian joked grimly and his father chuckled._

_“No, it isn't. Especially not this shade. Here, hold onto me. We're going home.” he helped Dorian to his feet, keeping his arm tight around his shoulders as he led him out of the blood stained room._

_The journey home seemed to pass in a blur as Dorian drifted in and out of consciousness once he was helped into his father's carriage. Images passed in before him faster than he could truly keep up with. Faces of people he knew, people he didn't, and most of all, there was his father. Time slipped by easily till Dorian found himself standing in front of a mirror in his room. He was dressed in fine black and teal silks, bruises long faded, and everything perfect. His father had insisted he take great care with his appearance today._

_There was some dread that his father would go back on his word about marrying Livia, but everything pointed away from that. It seemed her family, while disappointed, was still amenable to the changes made. They were coming over today. Or at least some of them. He groaned at the idea of seeing her again, but still, he could give his father this._

_He left the mirror behind, ignoring the urge to check his appearance once more, and the screaming continued this was wrong._

_It was all wrong._

_Dorian told himself it was only wrong because he wasn't used to this. Dorian also knew what a wonderful liar he was._

_Heading downstairs he caught sight of his father and mother, standing closer together than he had ever seen before, talking to Livia and two other men._

_“Seems I'm the last to arrive. Apologies.” he dipped his head slightly._

_“If you're ever on time for something I'll alert the Chantry to declare it a holiday.” Livia rolled her eyes, never missing a chance to snipe at him._

_“And if you ever look good in that color, I shall do the same.” Dorian beamed._

_“Don't you have bottom shelf wine to chug somewhere?” she shot back and Dorian narrowed his eyes before the man next to her cut them off with a laugh._

_“Easy, my love. We're here to celebrate after all. We can save the petty insults for holidays.” he pressed a kiss to the top of Livia's dark hair and Dorian raised an eyebrow._

_“My love?”_

_“Yes. You stepping aside paved the way for our marriage. We're looking forward to it. You're invited of course, if you don't believe it would be awkward.” his smile became just a bit more friendly. It was unsettling._

_“I'll see if I'm free.” The screaming in his head had reached it's pique pitch that everything was wrong, and that action had sealed it._

_Halward cleared his throat._

_“Dorian. The reason for this meeting is to discuss your marriage,” he held up a hand. “As you can see, not to Livia. Though that would have made our families allies, there is another way to secure that. One I believe would be more to your liking.” he motioned to the man next to him._

_Dorian turned to look at the man by his father as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes widened slightly. He was a good deal taller than Dorian, with a stout build one usually found on a stone mason as opposed to a mage, and a warm smile. The man's skin was a soft brown, the same as Livia's, and his hair and eyes were as dark as Dorian's silk robes._

_“This is Marcel. Livia's fourth cousin.” Halward explained._

_“It's a pleasure. I've heard many good things about you.” Marcel bowed at the waist._

_“Lies. All of them.” Dorian folded his arms and Livia looked ready to confirm this._

_“I have a hard time believing that.” Marcel smiled. “But I'm willing to risk it. My aunt and uncle contacted me after they met with your parents. Seems we're both of the same mind in terms of who we'd like to marry, or not marry.”_

_Now both Dorian's eyebrows were raised as he looked towards his parents._

_“He's a good man, Dorian, and this keeps our alliance in tact. As far as children go, there are several promising Laetan children who show skill far beyond their families own stations. It wouldn't be unheard of to adopt one of them.” Halward offered._

_Dorian was taken aback at the offer. No it wasn't unheard of, and some family lines had continued on that way. It was about the purity and power of the magic as much as blood. Granted those families weren't always so well thought of for several generations, but they were still powerful. That was a move he never thought his father would consider though. Pavus's were different. Now his father was willing to throw that away for him. He wanted it. He wanted to believe this and simply agree to the man in front of him. It would be so easy._

_“I know this is sudden, but perhaps if you spent some time with me. Won't you take a walk with me, Dorian?” the man offered his hand, and Dorian looked at it before looking at the man's face._

_Dorian started clapping._

_“Oh bravo. This is wonderful.” he laughed._

_“Dorian!” his mother gasped and Dorian rolled his eyes._

_“If you're trying to imitate my mother, slur your voice a bit more or ignore me all together.” he chided._

_“Dorian that is...” Halward started to growl, but Dorian fixed his eyes squarely on the man whose hand was still extended, though now a mortified look took hold of his features._

_“You did wonderfully, I have to say. This world is perfect! It's a fairy tale come to life. One thing though. Just a tiny, little, eensy detail you missed.” he nodded towards Livia. “She has as much interest in men as I do in women. None. I've seen a man try and kiss her like that at a party, and she scalded his lips. Last I heard she was staving off marriage by joining the Chantry. Didn't work well, you understand. Seduced one to many sisters.” he always thought he and Livia could have been friends if they hadn't been forced into an unhappy betrothal._

_The scene didn't end, but he felt a shift and looked back towards his ex-fiance. She now stood next to a woman in place of a man. He let out a groan._

_“Now, I'm just insulted. How oblivious do you think I am?” he put his hands on his hips, and the taller man sighed stepping back._

_“You drank enough.” he shrugged. “Even here I can smell it on you.”_

_“A demon with a sense of humor. How did I get so lucky.” the people froze around them now that the bluff had been called. It was like standing inside a painting._

_“When did you know?” the demon asked, not dropping the facade yet._

_“My first clue was when the chains didn't break. The second, is when my father showed no regard for our family line. But that?” he again motioned towards the two false women. “Was the most obvious.”_

_“I'll do better next time.”_

_“What makes you think there will be a next time?” Dorian hissed. “I assure you, you did not imagine all the ways my captors died on your own.” his smile had a deadly glint to it, but the demon didn't move._

_“I don't want to possess you.”_

_“What?”_

_“I wanted to talk.”_

_“...Talk?”_

_The man shrugged._

_“We don't all want to take over a body or even leave the fade. It's lonely though.” the demon sighed and if Dorian were less experienced he could have bought that as sincere. “Sometimes it's simply nice to talk to others. You can understand that? It's not as if you have many friends either.”_

_“You put me through all of this, just to be my friend?” he groaned. “Not only did I attract one with a sense of humor, I got a stupid one to. This is just embarrassing.”_

_“That'd be a no to the friendship then?”_

_“Sorry. I don't feel the spark.” Dorian raised a hand and lighting tore forward, striking the creature hard in it's chest and sending it backwards. Rather than do any kind of lasting damage though, the demon started to rise from the debris of the now fading parlor wall._

_That was when Dorian got his first good look at what this thing was. A Desire demon for sure. The horns and purple tinged flesh was a giveaway, but this looked a good bit different than most he'd seen. There was no real set way for demons to look, but they tended to hold to patterns. This one held on to very little._

_It was large, at least twice Dorian's height, with a muscled chest, and powerful arms. It's horns seemed to be in a constant state of splitting apart to grow larger, and it's eyes were purple flames. Black claws tipped it's hands and a single one of it's hoofed feet could crush a man's ribcage in one stomp. Gold and gemstones glittered around it's neck, arms and waist in long looping chains._

_This was an older Desire Demon. Power radiated from every step it took towards Dorian, and it's smile was made of rows of sharp pointed teeth._

_“Cute. Very cute. Tell me, are you so witty when dispatching all your enemies or am I just special? I do hope it's the latter.”_

_Talking was this things main weapon and Dorian didn't plan on listening to anymore. A staff materialized in his hand and there were corpses that began to rise around him in purple flames to stumble forward._

_“Silent treatment now? That's a bit rude. But if you're going to invite your friends, I'll invite mine. Not all at once of course. It's more fun to draw this out. See just how far I can push inside that pretty little head of yours.”_

_Again Dorian met the creature with silence, counting the seconds to see when they would attack first._

_Finally it came in a rush of arcane magic that sliced through the air straight at Dorian._

_He brought up the corpses, using them as shields and rushed forward to meet the creature. Fire raising up under every step of his and spun forward towards the beast._

_The Desire demon laughed, slicing through the bodies and cutting through the fire as if it were nothing. Several rage demons began to rise upward, and Dorian slammed his staff down into the ground, sending ice rushing to freeze them over. They shattered inches from the demon's feet, forcing it off balance for a few precious seconds. Dorian used that to press the attack forward. This was his head. His memories, and his pain. This thing had no right to them._

_It tried to bait him with more words. Ask him questions and taunt him into breaking. Asking why couldn't they just be friends. After all, Dorian could use all the allies he could get right? No one trusted him here. No one even liked him in particular. That was alright though, because all he needed was one person. Just one and he could be happy._

_Lightning, fire and ice raged as it crashed with pure arcane energies. Corpses battled the wraiths that drew up. The true battle was keeping his mind focused and clinical. Rage would draw more demons, and even to much passion in his desire to win could wind up aiding his opponent. How many mages had he seen fall to demons promising them they'd leave, or let the mage win if only they gave in a bit? Just a bit was all they needed. Giving that bit always meant it was to late._

_Time lost any sense of meaning and more than once Dorian and the demon had crashed into each other. Claws tore deep into Dorian's skin, and fire burned at the creatures eyes._

_Finally, Dorian hit the demon hard in the chest with the end of his staff, sending it skidding backwards. It wasn't down, but the burn on it's chest wasn't fading either._

_“I'm enjoying this. Truly, I haven't fought like this in ages.” it bared a now bloody pointed smile. “But I think I've had my fill for tonight. Don't worry though, I'll come back. I wouldn't want you to drink alone after all.”_

_The laughter was acidic and Dorian drew back his hand once more to throw fire at the retreating creature, even as only mist and painfully bright light began to settle in._

X

“Dorian stop!” Bull's hand caught Dorian's wrist before he could strike and the mage found himself rushing back to consciousness staring into a startled steel gray eye. Bull's eye patch was slightly askew, revealing more scars on that side of his face, and his jaw was set tight with uncertainty as they both breathed hard. 

The fire in Dorian's hand flickered out and he relaxed his muscles as Bull let go of his arm. He took a moment to gather where he was. The candle had long burned out, but he could make out where they were well enough as his eyes adjusted. Crates of various alcohol surrounded them, and wooden shelves lined the stone walls with even more bottles. The ground was cold, and despite his ease of movement seconds earlier, his muscles felt stiff. Bull's hand had again been the only warmth in this room. 

“You with me, big guy?” Bull asked after Dorian returned his focus to him. 

“Yes. I...” he took a breath, sitting back on his heels and clutching his head. “I...I think I'm going to be sick.” he pushed himself up and just managed to get himself to a nearby empty crate before throwing up. 

He was vaguely aware of the sounds of Bull trying to rise to his own feet. Then he felt a hand rubbing gentle circles into his back. 

“Don't!” he gasped. “Don't...”

“Sorry.” Bull pulled back.

“Don't...apologize either.” Dorian hissed, resting his head against the wooden edge. His legs felt weak and he thought he was going to collapse. Despite the massive amount of alcohol he'd had, he wasn't sure any of this was a product of that. Even the headache was something else entirely. 

“What do you want, Dorian?”

“Nothing! Kaffas, Bull, not everyone wants something from you at all times!” he forced himself up, staggering away from the crate and towards the door. He promised himself he'd apologize later, but right now he just needed some space. Especially from Bull. 

The underground hallways seemed longer than before and more confusing as he tried to locate the door to the upstairs. Instead he found his way to the additional library that was tucked away from even the sun. Perfect. He stepped inside and closed the door before letting himself sink down against it. 

_'Breath. In and out. Slow and controlled. You are in control. You are the only one in your head.'_ he told himself, focusing on every sensation he could that attached him to the real world. It didn't matter what it was, he just needed to hold onto the physical world right now. 

It had been years since he'd encountered a demon like that. Not even the one he'd faced in his Harrowing had been that strong. 

Dorian cursed under his breath. Desire demons were always the worst. They waited until some grand tragedy then offered the perfect solution. Unfortunately for them, Dorian was used to a world where perfection was a false exterior. 

He rested his head back against the door, trailing his hand over a nearby pile of books. He took comfort in their leather covers and cracked spines. The smell of ancient ink on even older paper was like a balm. Desire had offered him such a world and despised he hadn't ended the ruse the second he'd had suspicions. 

Dorian touched at his torso and throat where claw marks had been, but here there was only perfect undamaged skin and twisted clothes. Despite the lack of marks, he hadn't made it out entirely unharmed.

All of this felt like a punch to the gut. If this had happened any other time, it would have been unsettling, but it happened right after he'd been accused of being the inquisitions destruction. Next to Bull no less. However fearless the man appeared, Bull was terrified of demons and spirits. Even Cole unnerved him, and Dorian had seen him tense up more than once on the field when his necromancy came into play. 

The last thing he wanted was to repay Bull's kindness last night with terrifying him first thing in the morning. 

“Nothing to worry about, Bull. The mage you spent the night by and asked to fuck you, almost got possessed is all. It happens. Now what's for breakfast?” he mocked a potential conversation, instantly regretting speaking. His head throbbed. 

Topping it off, now he had to apologize and either tell Bull the truth or come up with some kind lame excuse. Considering it was Bull, he'd rather get the truth out of the way first, instead of knowing Bull knew he was lying, before he cracked. 

Before he did any of that though, he was going to get a bath and then sleep in an actual bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposted chapter due to something messing up with the text initially. Thank you so much, Nele, for catching that! <3

“Everything okay with Pavus, Chief?” Krem asked as he swung his maul, slamming it hard against Bull's shield as they sparred outside. Bull had looked like hell when Krem saw him earlier that morning, and barely uttered a word. He still looked like he'd been kicked around the head, albeit more awake. 

“What makes you think anything happened with Dorian?” Bull countered the attack with his own, pushing up hard on the shield and slashing forward with his heavy practice sword. Krem skidded back, barely missing it hitting his torso.

“You only pout like this when you've pissed him off.” 

“I do not pout.”

Krem scrunched his face up in a smile mixed of sarcasm and disbelief. It smoothed out when he was forced back again, this time defending against successive blows. He countered with the hilt of his maul, feinting a swing to the right, then coming up on the left. It almost worked, but Bull caught it with his sword and they stood in a deadlock, both pushing for the advantage. 

“Come on, Bull, it can't have been that bad. Unless you made a pun. Did you make a pun? We've told you puns don't work.” Krem managed through gritted teeth. 

How Krem had the strength for sarcasm and fighting him at the same time was something Bull would never understand. Still it wasn't enough and Bull managed to unlock their weapons, pushing Krem back with enough force he hit the wooden fence that surrounded their arena. 

“Did that work?” he growled. 

“Wasn't a pun, so yes.” Krem countered and instead of readying himself for another attack, lowered his weapon a bit. “Come on, you know we can't stand to see you like this.”

“I think I came on to strong last night is all. Messed things up.” he finally sighed. He should have been more careful. Dorian was prickly at the best of times. After what he told him last night, Bull should have known better. 

“What'd you do?” 

“Talked to much.” he muttered, expecting some kind of barb. Instead Krem offered a sympathetic smile.

“Talking is in your nature. Not your fault how some people take what you have to say.” 

“Maybe.” was all Bull said before motioning for Krem to take his stance again. 

X

If Dorian had felt ill before getting some sleep, he somehow felt worse now as he watched the sparring ring. Sera was currently engaged in some Red Jenny nonsense, but she told him he could use her roof while she was gone. He had taken her up on that offer more than once, and along with a view, he could hear snippets from Bull and Krem's conversation as well. 

Kaffas, Bull was an idiot. He hadn't done anything wrong last night, but here he was putting the blame on himself. For what Dorian couldn't even piece together. After leaving Bull in the cellar room, he had gone back to clean up his mess. Or at least throw straw over it. Bull had taken care of that for him. The place was even swept and no one would know anyone had been there if bottles hadn't been missing. Even that had been cleverly disguised.

Though that might have been pure survival instinct considering Josephine. 

He watched as the sparring match seemed to intensify; then Bull motioned for Grim to join the fray. The sun beating overhead made their skin glow with sweat, catching the grooves of the three men's muscles in the light, and he could hear grunts of effort from the fight. Scenes like this had him convinced morale was tied directly to the amount of training the Chargers did, and how many layers of clothes they wore doing it. 

As much as he wanted to simply enjoy the show, his mind was still spinning over last night. 

He wasn't good at making things up to people, but in this case, he was willing to try. 

Just as he was starting to think about how to get a dragon here, he heard Sera's door open and someone politely clearing their throat. 

“If this is about the wine, Eron, it's nothing to be missed. Orlesians have never been good at making anything over two years old.”

“How did you know it was me?” Eron asked as Dorian turned to greet him with a tired smile.

“Who else could it have been? Sera would have hit me with a pie to say hello. Anyone else might have simply dragged me off back to work.” 

“No one would drag you anywhere, Dorian. At least not after the last time you set Blackwall's beard on fire.” 

“Who knew he could run that fast?” Dorian laughed and Eron smiled shaking his head as he came forward. He looked as tired as Dorian felt, but there was a determined glint to his eyes as well. 

“May I join you?” he gestured towards the roof.

“Out here? Don't let Cassandra see, she'll have a fit at the idea of the Herald falling off a roof.” he moved over a bit as Eron climbed out to join him. 

“If you think this is high, you haven't seen the tree-houses my grandchildren have made.”

“Dwarfs make tree-houses now?”

“Apparently. My children were weird, it's no wonder my grandchildren are weirder.” 

“You know humans have a saying about how far an apple falls from a tree.”

“Well my tree was on a hill and the apples rolled far.” he folded his arms, taking on a gruff air. “I was a perfectly respectable businessmen, then my children had ideas about sailing and their children had ideas about trees.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. Eron could paint himself as a traditional dwarf as much as he wanted, but the man was as odd as anyone in his family.

“People would probably believe you were more respectable if you didn't go around climbing onto roofs with dangerous mages.” 

Eron sighed, his humor fading.

“Perhaps.” he took his glasses off, looking them over as if trying to find imagined dust. “I've been thinking about our conversation last night.”

“I told you I accepted your apology.”

“You did, but I still wronged you. Family is a personal matter. I shouldn't have put you in a situation where you were forced to share things with me you weren't ready to.”

Dorian wondered sometimes what personal family matters the inquisitor dealt with himself. Dwarfs weren't so different from 'Vints when it came to matters of presenting the family publicly. Discretion was key, shame had long reaching effects, and sometimes the facade of happiness mattered more than the reality. For all Eron spoke of his own children and grandchildren, he never spoke of his parents or siblings. Dorian couldn't help noticing that. 

“I need you to know you can trust me, and I need to trust you. I failed on both counts, but I have an idea on how to fix that.”

“I like brandy and the color blue if that helps.”

Eron didn't smile at the joke. Instead he held Dorian's gaze steady, until Dorian's own face grew serious.

“I still believe some of what that Envy demon told me. That there is someone who is trying, or will try, to take us down from the inside. I want you to take charge of that investigation.”

Dorian's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. 

“What about Leliana?” he asked. “She's the...”

“You'll work with her on occasion, but she has more than enough to deal with now. Apparently Corypheus's lieutenant, Calpernia, is proving to be more than a bit difficult to get a handle on.” he said. 

“Why me?”

“Because we're fighting Venatori. They come from the world you grew up in and understand. If anyone could spot how they might try and attack us here, it's you. You know their type of mind games, and you know how Tevinter politics work intimately,”

“I know a few of my countrymen intimately too.” Dorian muttered, a halfhearted attempt at breaking the seriousness. When that didn't work, he finally asked the real question. “Are you using this to keep a closer eye on me? Am I still a suspect?”

“No. I understand if you think that, which is why I'm offering you some of my best men to help. They'll report to you, not me. That means I'm relying on you to inform me of whatever they find. I'm not expecting one result or another. If there's nothing, I'm simply being a cautious old man. If there is, we go from there. You may bring in extra help as well, though I would appreciate you keeping me informed on who they are before they begin any investigations of their own.” Eron reached up, setting a hand on Dorian's shoulder. “You're a good man, Dorian. I knew that before this happened, but now it's time I act like it, and fully utilize your abilities. Don't worry, I'm not prying you away from your other research. That'd be to suspicious. I think you can multitask though.” 

There was finally a smile and Dorian felt his stomach knot up for a moment as he processed what was happening. Apologies that came with more than empty words or trinkets were as foreign to him as the Ferelden cold. To be called a good man was even stranger. 

Before he could focus to much on that, he looked back to the sparring ring. Ideas of how to go about his own apology taking shape.

“The Iron Bull.”

Eron lifted an eyebrow.

“I'd like to ask for his help in this matter. If we're talking about utilizing talents, I have to admit he has a few that could help with this. Not admit it to his face, but just between us.” 

“As long as he keeps this operation out of his reports, I don't see an issue with it.”

“You are suspicious of everyone aren't you?”

“Not everyone. Varric nearly robbed me blind last time we played cards. That's how I know I can trust him completely.” he lifted his chin with a feigned huff. 

“Varric robs everyone. Then Sera robs him, and Cassandra makes them both put everything back. Wonderful how cycles spin.” 

“It's enough to make someone dizzy.” he agreed before continuing. “If you want to bring Bull in on this, Dorian, then by all means, do. As I said, I trust you. Now that that's settled...can you help me up? My knees have decided they no longer like being knees.” 

Dorian laughed and carefully helped the inquisitor to his feet, keeping a hand on the older man's back as he guided him to the large open window and steadied him till he was on the floor. He considered going back to get another few of Bull and his men after Eron had left, but simply closed the window instead. 

After all he had official business with The Bull now, and that was a perfect excuse to get a better view ringside. 

X

“Anyone the Boss is worried about in particular?” Bull sat back at his desk, taking a drink from a large tankard of ale as Dorian sat across from him in a horribly uncomfortable chair. It had taken a bit to get through the crowd of people gathered to watch the Charger's sparring, but when the crowd had finally dispersed it was easy enough to get Bull to speak in private. Or as private as could be with Bull's men whistling after them. Assholes. 

“I told you he suspected me at first, but having cleared myself, I'm starting from scratch.” Dorian took a drink from his own tankard. He had gone for the weakest ale possible after last night, a clear scowl telling Cabot to keep that to himself. Cabot had done the impossible, and rolled his eyes in apathy at the feared Pavus glare.

“Why is he taking the word of a demon on anything? Couldn't the thing have just wanted to fuck with him and send us running around? Haven't heard of any demons that are known for telling the truth.”

“You're also not a mage. Demons were once spirits, and sometimes there are portions of their original nature that can linger. It doesn't always happen, but there are times. Spirits rarely lie, or if they do, it's with a different understanding of what a lie is to us.” Dorian explained. There was still so much they didn't know about the fade and how spirits and demons worked. But the fade was critical in his study of time magic, and he had found at least a few tomes on more refined aspects of spirits in his research. “That's what makes dealing with demons so tricky. You're never actually sure if they're lying a little, or lying completely. They could even tell the truth if they think it will hurt you.”

“Let me see if I'm following here. You and the Boss think this demon was telling the truth, or part of the truth, and are launching an entire investigation based on it?”

“The demon never planned on Eron surviving their encounter. If it had, it never would have revealed what it did about Celene's assassination. If that has enough credibility we're going to Halamshiral, I can see why he'd believe there's a good bit of truth here. All I know for certain is that he's being cautious. In any case, you seem to enjoy sticking your nose in people's business, I thought you might like to help.” that was the worst apology Dorian had ever given in his life and he wished he could melt into the chair right then and there. 

“Least I know where noses go.” Bull winked, Dorian having made an innuendo at the sparring ring to signal he was at least alright again with that. “If you want my help on this, you have it. I'd like to bring in some of my boys too. They hear things even I don't on the field.”

“I'm not certain we should be looking for a common soldier.” he muttered into his tankard, not meeting Bull's eye.

Bull sat back, and picked up several papers from his desk. 

“You know what these are?”

“Lists of your conquests?”

“The result of what a few pissed off common soldiers can do.” his tone was serious and for a moment, Dorian could see the kind of commander Bull had been in his younger days and still was with his men on the field. “I've seen more operations fall apart because of a soldier's slighted ego, than shit commanders alone. Hell, I was one of those pissed off soldiers when I worked for Fisher, and look how that ended? His company is who knows where. Mine is blessed by the Chantry.”

“I suppose it doesn't hurt having admirers among the order.” Dorian rolled his eyes, but agreed all the same. “I suppose you're right. We can't discount anything at this point.”

“That's what starting at scratch usually entails.”

Dorian nodded, fidgeting again in his seat and cursing the splinters. The Qun might not value comfort, but his back certainly did. This was the first time he had been in Bull's room. He had been expecting either an unorganized mess or some lavish bed chamber meant for any and all sexual fantasies. Instead, he found a room that wouldn't have been out of place in an army camp. The floor was swept and free of debris, the furniture was sparse, and the bookcase in the corner was large and filled to the brim with books, papers, and a box that contained various inks. His armor and weapons sat within easy reach, all cleaned and well oiled. The two largest pieces of furniture were Bull's desk and his bed. The desk, like the room, was neatly organized, made of dark old wood, with various papers, letters, wax seals, inks and one or two vials of potions organized on it. The drawers all had tight locks. Bull's bed was perhaps the outlier of the room. It was the one thing that looked truly comfortable, with large pillows, thick blankets, and cuffs on the headboard. Dorian could only guess what Bull's nightstand contained, though the corner of a pink box peaking out gave him some idea. 

There was also a hole in his wall, but he had covered it with pelts to keep out the cold while repairs were being scheduled.

“You need a pillow or something? I know these chairs aren't what you're used too.” Bull offered.

Dorian shook his head.

“I'm fine. You've offered to do more than enough for me and I have a lousy way of repaying that.” he might as well just blurt it out. He'd never been good at subtlety. “I was an ass this morning when I left you.”

“It's...”

“Please, let me finish. Apologies are hard enough for me to start without having to do so again.” he held up a hand, lightly tapping his fingers against the metal of his cup as he forced the words out. “I overheard some of your conversation with Cremisius today. You didn't do anything wrong, Bull. I wasn't in a good frame of mind.”

“You were sick.”

“Yes, but that wasn't why I left the way I did. I had a bit of an encounter with a demon that night.” he could already see Bull tensing up. “It happens on occasion, especially after rather dramatic situations, but it was still startling. I couldn't explain then, and quite frankly I didn't want the first words out of my mouth to be: 'Good morning! Nearly got possessed by a demon right after proving my innocence, how are you?'” his smile was cheeky, and lacked any sense of genuine humor. 

Bull let out a breath, nodding as he took a noticeably longer drink. 

“You were scared. I understand.”

“I wanted to make sure I wouldn't hurt you.”

That seemed to give Bull pause as he tilted his head curiously. 

“I knew it was gone, but I still wanted to be completely certain. I had to know I was alone in my head. I've seen the results of possessions. Usually it's the people who are closest that die the worst. I may not always appreciate your sense of humor, or your smell, or...”

“Is this how 'Vints apologize?” Bull rested his chin in his hand and Dorian cut himself off.

“The point is, I don't actually want you dead, or hurt. Hurt badly, I should say. At least not until you've made a joke.” 

Bull smiled.

“Ahh, but it's different when you're throwing fire at me instead of some demon. Then it's fun.” he wiggled his one eyebrow and Dorian laughed himself.

“A type of fun yes. I am sorry for my rudeness though. That was unworthy of me. Even if I had a reason, I can't imagine that left the best impression.”

“Not really, but this does.” Bull set his drink down, leaning forward a bit, though he made no move to touch Dorian. “You didn't have to apologize or explain, Dorian. I appreciate that you did. Kinda worried I fucked things up.”

“If that was you 'fucking up', I'm not sure I can imagine when you get things right.” Dorian countered. “You were a better friend than I deserved last night, Bull. Anything that went awry was on me.”

“We're friends now?” Bull teased and before Dorian could pull back, laughed and lightly punched Dorian's shoulder. “I like the sound of that. You're a good man to have at my back, and if you ever want me on my back, let me know. I'll bring the wine. Not as much as last night, but enough.” 

Dorian groaned running a hand down his face even as his cheeks started to burn slightly. This was the second time he'd been called a good man today. He liked the sound of it, even if he disagreed.

“You are impossible.”

“I'm a delight.”

“You're something I can tell you that.” Dorian snorted, but still smiled. “I look forward to working with you, Iron Bull. Here's to catching Corypheus's man and further ruining his plans.” 

“I can drink to that.” the tankards smashed together and Bull stood after finishing his. “But if you want a real toast, you need to try what my boys have downstairs. Stitches and Skinner are mixing some of the drinks tonight.”

“Cabot let them behind the bar?”

“Even we don't have enough gold for that kind of bribe. They're mixing for us. Guaranteed you won't remember tonight, but you won't have a hangover in the morning.”

Dorian thought a moment. He hadn't planned on drinking much tonight after the last incident, but there couldn't be any harm in one or two drinks. Even if there was it might be worth it.

“I suppose if I'm going to be working with them, I should somehow endear myself to your men.” he finally stood himself, feigning a put upon sigh.

“Hey, they like you plenty already.”

“Skinner threw a knife at me a week ago, Cremisius asked if I stored an extra staff up my arse, and Rocky moved my books in the library!” 

“First, you're not dead, so that means Skinner wasn't trying to hit you. Second, Krem's a little shit. Third, I get the feeling you're most upset about Rocky.”

“It took me half an hour to put them back in order.” Dorian grumbled. 

“Tell you what, next time we play cards you can be my team, and we'll cheat em into stable duty.”

“Now that's something I'll drink to.” Dorian grinned as they made their way towards the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and adding some more humor in. And honestly I agree with Dorian about the amount of training the Chargers do being tied to morale. No one could look at those muscles and not be motivated.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the night of celebration and hope that things would clear up with ease, Dorian found his optimism transformed into sheer stubbornness and drive over the next few weeks. Eron said he hadn't been expecting one outcome over another, but Dorian couldn't help feel he had to produce something. Or at the very least enough evidence that something was nothing. Otherwise, there was a nagging feeling he would become the default suspect again. 

It didn't help the demon had decided to show up a few more times. Never long enough for an actual decisive battle; just long enough to try and fray Dorian's nerves. It was different than other demons he had faced before. More clever. As if it were trying to play some kind of long game with him and see just how far he could be pushed before giving into the seemingly simple request of talking. Nothing was ever simple with demons though. He hated the fact it wouldn't simply stand and fight. It didn't seem he could do anything to dissuade it from coming back, which put him even more on edge when facing it and led too being more tired during the day. Everyone would expect him to fall, but he didn't intend to give them or that thing the satisfaction. 

Dorian let out a breath through his nose as he spun his staff, striking at the training dummy in the yard in rapid succession. His attacks were almost a blur and if he had added any magic, he could have easily torn the target in half. For now he simply focused on the movements of the staff itself; executing perfected forms and crushing arcs. 

There were a few people nearby, but he was always given a wide berth whenever he trained. No one wanted to risk getting in the way of the 'evil' magister. Well most people. He had a few sparring partners. Vivienne was one, and most of their sessions ended in a draw. Blackwall was another, with Dorian claiming victory in over half their fights. He sparred with Eron on occasion, but sometimes he genuinely worried he might hurt the older man. He wasn't frail, but he certainly wasn't young. Sera couldn't really be counted as a training partner because she cheated the few times they had. One time she had put glue on his staff making it impossible to wield, and another time she'd somehow snuck stripweed into one of the pouches on his belt. His allergies made that fight nearly impossible to win. 

More rapid strikes send a small shower of splinters from the dummy's side, and Dorian whirled, hand extended in the motion to strike with fire, though none came. He followed up then with an upper strike, hitting hard across the shield and saw the wooden arm that held it begin to warp. A few people that had looked his way turned their attention rapidly to something else. There was a bit of joy in that. Knowing that he could make a few former Templars take a step back without magic. It was a good reminder for them. Mages preferred magic, but the good ones could use a big stick just as well. 

The most surprising sparring partner he'd found was a recent addition. Bull and he worked well on the field together, and had a few matches here and there. Some draws, some clear victories for each. But it hadn't been till they'd started working together off the field that it had become more regular. Dorian was enjoying the time they spent together more than he wanted to acknowledge. After the night they'd spent on the cellar floor, there had been innuendos exchanged, but nothing much beyond that. It felt like it was teetering towards something, but what Dorian had no idea. The man had been invaluable to bring in to the investigation whatever else there was. As much as Dorian didn't want to admit it, he'd been right about bringing in his core Chargers as well. There weren't any signs of Corypheus at work, but they had come across several ex-Templars within the inquisition that needed addressing. Some of their drunken talk was starting to sound to much like plans. 

Right now they couldn't afford any distractions a few disgruntled idiots could stir up. Orlais loomed over them like a gilded storm cloud, and Dorian was less and less thrilled about it each day.  
He slammed the butt of his staff straight into the dummy's helmet, causing the metal to buckle slightly and let out a short shrill sound. 

“That's what I call a show.” Bull spoke from behind and Dorian turned to see the qunari watching him, a large training sword casually swung over his shoulder. 

“This is nothing. If I were to put on a show I'm sure it would cause even you to go speechless.”

“Promises, promises.” Bull chuckled, stepping into the ring. “You up for a change in partners, or you happy beating some wood?” 

Dorian's face deadpanned as he took a controlled breath.

“That. Was the absolute worst line I have, _ever_ , heard you utter.”

“I was talking about the training dummy. You have such a dirty mind.” Bull put a hand to his chest as if shocked. 

“If you're offering me the chance to beat you around the head with a stick, I'll gladly take it.” Dorian countered, muttering under his breath as he took his stance. “Though I'm curious where your brood seems to have gotten to. At the very least I think they'd enjoy betting on my victory.”

Bull grinned and took his own position. 

“They're on escort duty. Helping some nobles that rolled the dice on us actually find the place.” he shrugged. Already his voice had lost some of it's humor as the match began.

There was a moment of silence as each one stood assessing the other. Watching for the smallest movement to suggest where one would go and who would begin the match. Dorian kept his gaze calm, and stance relaxed, noting Bull leaned a bit forward, but with no seeming intention to move first. For someone as brutal as Bull was in battle, it always struck Dorian that he tended towards more defensive tactics first. It wasn't cowardice, but calculation. Bull's own mind was likely working just as fast now trying to assess where Dorian would go first. 

Dorian shifted a bit to the right, but rather than feign left as expected, shot forward head on. He brought his staff down with a mixture of power and speed, striking directly at Bull's right shoulder. Bull moved with speed his stature didn't imply he had, catching the attack and pushing back against it. He then swung and came down hard, striking the ground where Dorian had just been; sending a shower of dirt and rocks up.

Dorian spun to the left after that, coming up low with an attack aimed at the underside of Bull's jaw and Bull countered, moving into the attack itself, before moving at the last second. He lashed out with the hilt of his sword, almost hitting Dorian square in the chest. The attack missed by less than a breath as Dorian pulled back, blocking the attack with the bottom of his staff, and pushing hard against the hilt to angle it awkwardly. Bull grunted as it pushed back into his arm, but his grip held and he pressed the attack again.

It was a blur of staff crashing with sword as they connected then retreated again and again. 

“If we get a routine down we should consider putting something on for the Orlesians. I'm certain they'd adore it.” Dorian smirked, ducking under an attack and bringing his staff up. It slammed hard into Bull's side, but seconds later he took a hit to the leg himself. 

“We'd have to wear some masks. Otherwise it wouldn't be considered proper dancing.”

“Is dancing what we're doing?”

“You keep spinning around like that, it's the only thing I can think of.” Bull struck empty air as Dorian indeed kicked himself off the ground, moving in a smooth arc over Bull's sword. It was over to fast for Bull to bring the weapon up and attack from below, instead finding it countered when he struck at where Dorian now stood. 

“Perhaps you should learn some of the steps.”

Bull chuckled before lowering his voice. Usually Bull's sparring would draw some kind of crowd, but this late in the day and with Dorian, no one seemed to be getting close. Still, there were precautions.

“Chargers are keeping an eye on the people coming in. Making sure nothing slips by.” he said casually. 

“Would they be able to catch someone trying?”

“My boys? Shit, yeah. They're good at what they do. Means others are always trying to poach one or another to join them, and they think mercenaries only speak in gold. They can't be bought, but that doesn't mean people don't try.”

Dorian blinked slightly as the information settled and he barely dodged a strike to his torso.

“You're using them as bait aren't you? Entice potential problems into thinking they can hire muscle, then that muscle turns out to be unavailable.”

Bull's smirk was his only answer as they lapsed back into silence. Minutes later, they both pulled back from the other, locking eyes and breathing hard. Dorian felt sweat creasing his brow, and Bull's chest rose and fell a bit quicker than it had before. 

“You should use your magic.” Bull said, matching Dorian's pace as they began circling each other. 

“I thought you didn't care for magic?”

“'Vint's out there don't really care about what I like.”

Dorian wondered how much he cared what Bull liked. Why he even hesitated rather than show off. He pushed the thought away, focusing only now on the present. 

“Fair enough. Don't blame me if you get singed.”

“Hot.”

“For fucks...” Dorian didn't get the rest of the curse out out before Bull attacked. This time he was pushing harder than before and Dorian granted his request. A barrier came up fast, taking the blow from Bull's sword right on, as Dorian dove and rolled up just behind Bull. He raised his arm as fast as he could, throwing streaks of fire directly at Bull's back. Only one made ant contact with the left tip of Bull's horn before their weapons crashed again. Lightning channeled through Dorian's hands into his staff, erupting in a pulse that knocked them both back putting distance between them. Had Bull's sword been metal instead of wood, it may have caused some serious damage. As of now it only smoked a bit. 

There was no time to savor even that small victory as Bull attacked, going in an unexpected direction as he struck out hitting low. He almost went down on his good knee, and then using the momentum pushed upward. Dorian was forced to use his staff to push back and keep some of the gained distance between them. He twisted up and over again avoiding another low attack. He went for Bull's legs himself, then changed at the last second and caught Bull just round-side the head. He paid for it with Bull taking the opening and hitting him in the ribs. It connected less than Bull had intended, but Dorian still felt it, skidding back. He pushed off the ground as soon as his heels hit the dirt and he came up, drawing on the fade to unleash a small force of arcane energy. It pushed Bull farther towards the fence, and he followed it up with a kick aimed at the inside of Bull's thigh. 

Just as he began to land the hit though he became aware of what sounded like stone splintering. From the corner of his eye, he saw his last attack had struck out at part of the wall nearby that was still in need of repair. The soft sound soon turned into a crashing noise as stones began to fall straight towards them.

“Move!” 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and still to fast for Dorian to register. He was raising his hand to cast a barrier, when Bull knocked into him hard enough the force took them both out of the way of the falling debris. They went down in an awkward roll before coming to a stop a foot away from where the stones had struck their previous positions. Bull was looming over him now, as if using his own body as a shield, and Dorian lay flat on his back. It wasn't the worst situation he'd ever been in, with Bull positioned above him, hands on either side of his shoulders and close enough Dorian could smell the sweat on his skin.

There was only the sound of smaller stones hitting the ground for several seconds after that.

“You okay?” Bull's words seemed to break the trance and Dorian found words in his dry mouth.

“Vishante Kaffas, Bull! You hardly had to do something so dramatic.” he snorted, but made no attempt to move.

“I didn't think keeping your pretty ass from being crushed by a wall counted as dramatic.” 

“My pretty ass is also quite capable of casting barriers.” Dorian nodded upwards. Bull followed his gaze and indeed noticed the barrier over them, as well as several of the largest stones now held up in midair. 

“Oh.”

“See? Nothing you needed to worry about.”

“Guess not.” he shrugged. “I'm not in the habit of standing by if someone could get hurt. Besides, rock to the head would be a shit way for such a powerful mage to go.”

Dorian glared.

“What makes you believe I want you, or anyone, to get hurt on my account instead? I neither need nor want to be treated like glass.”

“Never said that, Dorian.” 

They still made no attempt to move.

“Guess that means you like it rough then?” Bull's grin melted the tension and Dorian blinked before laughing. 

“You never miss a chance do you?”

“You like it.”

“I tolerate it. There's a key difference.” he grinned himself before they carefully began to sit up. Bull winced slightly as he sat back on his knees, prompting Dorian to look at him closer. “Are you alright? I should have asked sooner considering you threw yourself to my defense.”

“I'm fine. More my ankle than the knee.” he carefully maneuvered himself so he was sitting on his behind rather than his legs at all.

“Doesn't your healer do anything for that?” Dorian asked as he guided the remaining stones to the ground.

“When it acts up.” Bull shrugged. “There's not much anyone can do otherwise. Fucked it up on Seheron.” he explained.

“That island left quite an impression on you.” Dorian hadn't meant his words to sound so dismissive. He quickly tried to bury them under others. “I suppose with the time you spent there that should be expected. How long did you say? Eight years?”

“Ten.”

“Ah.” Dorian wasn't quite sure what to say after that. Bull rarely spoke about Seheron and when he did, there was always a heaviness that tinged the air. He wasn't sure he'd ever know what happened there, or what the final straw was that made Bull leave, but he didn't understand how Bull lasted even that long. He had seen some mages and soldiers come back from Seheron after only a few years, completely changed. The one he knew best was another Altus's son. He'd had been about ten years older than Dorian and while the second son, clearly favored as the one to inherit his father's magisterium seat when the time arose. Then he went to Seheron for three years, and when he came back, he reminded Dorian more of the corpses he'd been studying than the man he'd once known. He didn't have many memories of his mother acting parental, but the last time he saw the former soldier, Dorian's mother had been ushering him away with a protective hand. He was still to young to fully understand what was happening, but thinking back, he thought he could place the look the man had fixed on him. Pure hatred. He had called him a different name at their last meeting, and Dorian could only guess he reminded him of someone he met on the island. 

Last he'd heard after that, the man had become housebound for his own safety and healing. 

If that was what Seheron did after three years, he could barely imagine what a decade there had done to Bull. 

Before he had time to say anything else, there was a wooshing sound coming straight toward him, followed by a sticky mess that connected with both his head and Bull's. 

“What the fuck?!” he nearly pitched forward from the attack, but his question was already answered as he heard cackling and whipped around to see Sera standing on her roof. She wasn't alone either. Hawke stood next to her, both women laughing and slapping each other's hands for a job well done.

“Told you I could get him!” Sera whooped.

“How many drinks do I owe you now?” Hawke was snorting she was laughing so hard. Even from here Dorian could make out she had remnants of pie on own her face.

“Sera! I am going to find every single one of your damned bees and put them all in your room!”

“Why? So I can get 'em back in the bottle easier?” she made a farting sound with her tongue in his direction. “Come up here before you get your fancy knickers in a twist! I have something to show you.”

“If it's your arse, I'll pass!” Dorian snapped back and Bull laughed, finally standing. 

“If she wanted to show you that, she'd drop her pants right now.” Bull shook his head, wiping some pie from his horns. 

“It's not my arse, you arse! Just get up here!”

“I'll see you as soon as I've had a bath and scraped this off. Where do you even get these?”

“I found 'em!” Hawke volunteered. 

Bull snorted. 

“I'm sure Cassandra is thrilled at this development.” he grinned at Dorian before taking a careful finger of the pie filling from Dorian's cheek and licking it with deliberate slowness from his finger. His eyebrow raised as he finished at the tip. 

Dorian felt heat grow on his face as he watched and heard Sera shouting something. Before Bull could claim satisfaction at catching him off guard, Dorian sighed dismissively.

“Only one finger, Bull? I thought you were more impressive than that.” he raised his own eyebrow slightly, tongue subtly flicking over his full lower lip as if tasting some of the filling that stained them. 

Bull blinked, opening his mouth to respond before Dorian turned on his heel, clearly satisfied at having won some kind of round. 

As he walked away, he was aware of stares and soft whispering of people that saw him, but he paid them no attention. The further he got from that moment, the more unsettled he became by something. He looked over his shoulder towards the wall where the stones had fallen from. That wasn't right at all. His attack had been strong, but it had been controlled and targeted. It shouldn't have hit the wall like that. It wasn't that it was impossible, it just simply shouldn't have happened. 

He ran a hand over his face, ignoring the sticky pie that came away as he flicked his hand at the ground. The demon's attacks hadn't been relentless, but they had been enough to disturb his sleep more than usual. Perhaps that was it. It wasn't something he wanted to admit, but he could see how tiredness might have played into his shot being off just enough. 

Dorian cursed under his breath as he headed inside, hoping a bath would help clear his mind as much as wash the pie away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pies to the face is how Sera says hello to her most beloved friends. Dorian would have probably preferred a card, but it doesn't make the same statement. I'm so excited to finally bring her in!


	5. Chapter 5

_“GAHCK!”_ Dorian woke with a start, sputtering water and gasping as he opened his eyes, swallowing down air and coughing as some water followed. He gripped the edges of the bath, knuckles almost going white from the hold as he tried to regain his foothold in the physical world.

“Shit...” he breathed after a moment, pushing his wet hair out of his face as he took in his surroundings. He was in one of the secluded baths in Skyhold, not a bathhouse in Tevinter. And he was alone. Or as alone as he could be with lingering dreams buzzing over him. The demon had come again.

Dorian hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep at first, though he became aware rapidly. The creature hadn't even bothered disguising itself unlike the rest of the world it had transformed. Instead it had been lounging across from him, laughing. 

_“You're starting to slip, Dorian. Better wake up.”_

At first he thought it had been referring to slipping in a metaphysical sense. It was more literal than that, and he soon became aware of water going up his nose and down his throat. 

He slammed his fist against the water as he pulled himself out. He didn't know why it hadn't simply made him believe he was underwater in his dream as well, and then offer to let him up. That had been more disturbing than the other dreams, when it had donned a disguise. It was so casual and seemed to be taunting him with it's strength rather than pushing forward. Maybe that was the point of waking him up. His death would mean an end to whatever game it was playing, and it didn't seem to want to let that happen yet. 

“Alright, you blighter. You want to play that way? Fine.” he hissed to himself as he got dressed. It was to late to bother with a more elaborate outfit, so he wore simple breeches with a long sleeved tunic, his belt and boots. He snatched up his nearby rings, the few remaining signs of status he had, and carefully slipped them on. 

Setting up wards that this kind of demon required always took a good deal of preparation, but he wanted that thing gone. Since it never let him kill it like a sensible demon, he'd have to settle now with putting up a fence that screamed 'fuck off' while he slept. 

For now, he headed towards the tavern and Sera's room; deciding to keep any talk of demons nonexistent. 

The night was cool when he stepped into it, playing with the ends of his still drying hair and making him wish he'd grabbed a cloak as well. Instead he huddled into himself a bit and headed towards warmth and light. The tavern had plenty of both, with added noise as he stepped inside. Once his presence would earn at least a slight pause and look from the majority of people present. Now they didn't even notice when he slipped in. Dorian couldn't tell if that was progress or not. 

“Awwww, someone took a shine to our Grim?” Bull's laugh could be heard over the din of the rest of the tavern, and Dorian saw him sitting with his men who looked like they'd only recently returned from their job. Bull had cleaned up from the earlier pie, though there a few purple stains on his paints left as evidence. Grim had some red to his face that clearly wasn't from drinking, and looked seconds away from throwing something else at Bull.

“I don't know what he didn't say, Chief, but I think we could have jobs lined up for years after this.” Krem joined in the needling, sitting atop the chair's back like a small cat. Grim grunted and kicked out at the leg as if trying to topple it over, but Krem easily balanced himself out leaning just a bit more forward. “Bit harder next time, Grim.”

“Now you're giving direct quotes.” Rocky snorted earning more laughter.

Dorian watched the group as torment was good naturedly exchanged between them, half tempted to join them for a bit before heading towards Sera. He was starting to consider it when Bull looked his way and motioned him over with a grin. He almost went, then shook his head and motioned with his thumb upstairs. Bull nodded, but he could have sworn he saw him mouth 'you're always welcome', before heading up the steps. As much as he tried not to dwell on it, he felt a warm sensation spreading in his chest. It wasn't just that Bull had waved him over, but that it was done in front of others. No hesitation or concern of what even his men might think seeing them engaging outside of work. He couldn't, or rather wouldn't, place the feeling, but it was a nice one.

For now though, he pushed it down as he headed towards Sera's room. He could hear her talking with Hawke inside. 

“So you stole a ship to impress your lover?”

“I didn't steal the ship. I rented it.” Hawke protested. “We just...had it out a bit longer than expected so they thought we were stealing it. That was not my fault, we got lost!”

“How? You were sailing with a bloody pirate!”

“First, Isabela is not a 'bloody pirate', she's an entrepreneur who dabbled in procuring en route assets at a more reasonable cost.”

“Like a pirate.” Sera sing songed. 

“Second, we uh, weren’t exactly to focused on the direction for awhile. More pressing matters below deck. On the deck. Against the mast. In the water...”

“Varric didn't put any of that in his book!”

“Because I made him swear not to when he bailed us out! Can't wait to see what he writes about you and the enchanter.”

Dorian didn't have to see Hawke's face to know a large grin was present. Nor did he have to see Sera's face to know it had gone red.

“If that sod writes anything about Dagna it...well...it better not happen that's what!”

“Protective huh? You know people eat that kind of thing right up.”

“And you know what you can go eat...”

“I'm afraid Varric may not have much material to work with considering Sera has yet to do more than babble in her direction.” Dorian interrupted as he opened the door and stepped inside. Sera and Hawke were sitting on the bench turned bed near the window, a bottle of wine sat between them along with some letters, and a single gold coin. Considering there was a hole in the shape of a heart punched in it's center, it was likely a memento rather than something of monetary value. 

“No one asked you fancy britches!” Sera threw a pillow at Dorian's head and he barely had time to duck. 

“I bet she'd like you!” Aletia Hawke was a few inches shorter than Sera, with a sturdy frame, tan skin, rough hands, dark hair tied behind her back and a fading tattoo along the left side of her face. Her smile suggested she was seconds away from grabbing hold of Sera and dragging her towards Undercroft and right to Dagna. 

“Ughhghg! Not talking about this anymore!” Sera flopped back, running hands over her face. “And none of you tits breath a word of this to her or I'll shoot an arrow up your arse.”

“Make sure to let Varric know the pure poetry Sera is spouting. I'm sure 'arrow up an arse' would be a wonderful chapter title.” Dorian laughed dodging a shoe this time. 

“Dingle fop!”

“You can't just put sounds together and call that an insult. That doesn't work.”

“Pbbhhhtt!” 

“I mean if anyone can, I'd put money on her.” Hawke said as she stood, gathering the letters and coin, but leaving the bottle. “Catch me in the tavern later, Sera. I'll make good on the drinks I owe you.” 

She headed for the door then paused. 

“And if you bring Dagna I'll buy for her too...”

“OUT!” Sera reached for her bow and Hawke made the pragmatic choice to race out of the way and towards the stairs, still laughing.

“Seems you two get along.” Dorian grinned as he stepped inside, thoughts of demons and near drownings now fading to the back of his mind. 

Sera pushed herself up on her elbows.

“She's alright. Didn't rat me out when I got her with a pie earlier.” she shrugged. “We got a list now.”

“Maker.” Dorian sighed as he took a seat, and without missing a beat grabbed the wine and took a sip.

“Hey!”

“You threw a pie at me. I think I'm owed this.” he rolled his eyes.

“No. The information I have for you is what makes us even.” Sera tried to grab the bottle, but Dorian held it just out of reach. 

“You mentioned something you wanted to show me. If it's good, you get this back.”

“If I don't get it back, you get...”

“An arrow?”

“You...”

“Arse?”

Sera pursed her lips as she held Dorian's gaze, a silent standoff taking shape before giggles from both sides began to interrupt it. Dorian passed the wine over to her, deciding not to be offended when she didn't instantly drink it after the fuss. 

“It's good to see you back here, Sera. This Red Jenny nonsense took longer than usual.”

“It's not 'nonsense', and you're the reason it took so much longer.”

Dorian blinked.

“How was that my fault?”

Sera pulled up her rucksack, digging through it and then held out a few neatly folded pieces of parchment. Any sarcastic remark Dorian would normally offer died in his throat as he watched her face. She wore a rare serious look and he took the papers, unfolding them quickly. The information that stared back at him made him do a double take. 

“You...”

“Eron asked me to keep an eye out for anything while I was gone. I did, and it paid off.”

Among the Venatori there were a few groups in particular that Dorian had been looking into, even before he came south. It came as no surprise to him that several of those involved in the attempted blood ritual had been recruited to the Venatori. He had tracked the groups containing those people to two locations, but they'd scattered to the winds from there. He wasn't sure if they had simply moved on their own after the attack on Haven, or if someone had tipped them off. The idea that anyone would know what their significant connection to him seemed impossible. There was no way. But the mere thought still made a pit form in his stomach. 

“Thank you. I...I'll let Eron know.” his voice was soft, but it didn't shake.

“What'd they do to you?” Sera asked as she watched him carefully.

“What makes you think they did anything to me? We're making a sport out of eliminating all Venatori, it's hardly...”

“Yeah, but you wanted to know about these titheads specifically. I'm not stupid, Dorian.”

“No you're not. Lets just say I know these people to be particularly monstrous compared to the rest.” he said then added. “I've seen them use blood magic.”

“They try and fight you with it?”

Sometimes Sera's bluntness was a gift, and other times it was a curse. Right now he wasn't sure which it was.

“Yes.” he decided to be a bit blunt back though he wasn't giving any details. “They weren't very effective, but they tried.”

Sera's expression remained somber as she looked at the bow in her lap, before pulling out an arrow nearby and shooting it across the room in one quick motion. The arrow landed dead center in the middle of a crudely drawn target with enough force the wood of the wall split around it. 

“Good thing we _are _very effective.” she grinned and then lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Don't worry, fancy britches. We'll get 'em. Arrows up the arse for days.”__

__Dorian felt some tension melt away as he reached out to lightly push at Sera's head. If he'd ever had a sibling, he hoped they'd have been like Sera. Though the mere thought of the two of them as teenagers raising hell together made him wonder if the Imperium would be standing now._ _

__“I'll light them on fire you if you want. We can make a fireworks display.”_ _

__“Ha! Exploding arses!”_ _

__Dorian laughed._ _

__They talked for a bit longer after that, though not about blood magic or the mages who now wore targets on there back. Instead Sera filled him on her adventures with the Red Jennies, and her various plans for pranks in the coming days. Dorian for his part didn't mention the assignment Eron had put him on, but talked about his other research, sneaking Orlesian wine, minus the demon and horrible line he'd used on Bull, and his own target ideas for some of Sera's tricks. He also offered some advice on how to pursue Dagna which got him another pillow to the face, then gut, and one 'You really think?'_ _

__It was a good night, though by the time Dorian left for his own room, he realized he still had to set up wards before he could sleep. That was less of a positive, and he almost considered forgoing it. The papers in his hand kept him from doing that, and he began the necessary spells. He wasn't going to take a chance when he was this close to putting an end to that chapter of his life. With that heavy on his mind, the last thing he wanted was a demon trying to root around that subject for leverage._ _

__An hour later, Dorian finally had everything set, and without ceremony, crashed onto his bed._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sera and Dorian's friendship.


	6. Chapter 6

“Maker, can you believe the Inquisitor brought a Tevinter with him? He's truly a charming man, I can't understand why he'd do such a thing.”

“I wouldn't worry, love. He seems to have trained him well enough. Or at least he appears to be on tight leash.”

Dorian felt his eye twitch as he took another drink. He hadn't expected anyone to be subtle of their disdain for him here, but actually being in the thick of it was more exhausting than he expected. It was one thing when he was in Tevinter and could simply strip, dive into a fountain, and bask in the gasps and horrified comments. Here he was a representative of the Inquisition. He also wasn't twenty three and on his fifth shot of three hundred year old brandy. 

“Do you think we need to keep an eye on our servants? I would hate to lose them to some northern ritual. Especially Lorus. You know she's the only one who makes tea the way I like it.”

“I...”

“You know if you're trying to keep the feared Tevinter on your good side, neither your comments nor the drink selection is helping. I've pissed stronger wine than this.” Dorian finally snapped at the nearby couple, causing a few gasps. As soon as the words left his mouth he felt like kicking himself, but there was satisfaction in seeing how they scuttled away. 

He rolled his eyes, sighing softly as he looked around to see which direction the newest batch of insults would come from. He had taken up residence in one of the gardens, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Considering this was Orlais, the task should have been to look for something normal. 

_'Normal that is not.'_ Dorian thought to himself as he saw Eron seemingly appear out of thin air from behind one of the lattices, almost as if he were stepping down off it. It happened so fast and casually he wasn't certain anyone else caught it. He spoke with a few people giving polite bows before making his way towards Dorian. 

“How are you enjoying the party?”

“This is all so familiar. I half expect my mother to materialize and criticize my manners.”

“You could stand not to slouch.” Eron smirked and Dorian raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. 

“Oh you are funny. I see why the court likes you so much.”

“I'm good at making friends.” he shrugged, and where they back at Skyhold, Dorian was certain Eron would have related that to surviving in the Carta. Like any old man, he had dozens of stories he never missed a chance to tell. “Don't worry, if your mother shows up, I'll make certain to create a diversion for your escape.”

“It would have to be a good one, or else you'll be short one mage after I'm dragged out by my earlobe.” 

“Yours too? I thought that was just a dwarf thing.” Eron muttered. 

“It's a mother thing apparently.” Dorian had never been particularly close to his mother. She was either with friends, drinking while he was being watched by the servants, arguing with his father or simply gone. Even if she was present she had seemed more like a wraith than a full person. 

After everything happened, he'd spent years wondering if his mother had known, and worse, approved. According to his father, not only hadn't she, but when he told her what happened, she had slapped him so hard her rings had left a faint scar on his face. She hadn't spoken to him for almost a full year after that; relying on others to deliver any messages he absolutely needed. In some ways, despite everything else, it felt like she might have been the one parent that cared more about him then their image. Critiques on manners aside. Perhaps that was only wishful thinking, but he'd let himself have that at least.

Eron lowered his voice a bit more, asking if there was anything Dorian had noticed he should be aware of. So far there was nothing, but Dorian was watching closely. There was a buzz in the air. He couldn't place it, but it felt like ripples constantly branching out from the Fade like warning signals. Something was wrong, but there was no clear direction of where it came from. Dorian would have attempted speaking to Cole in case the spirit felt something similar, but Cole was nowhere to be found. Varric had taken the task of keeping an eye on him, but that was proving more difficult than initially thought. Last he'd heard before giving up his search, Cole was following after a small parade of people with extraordinary hats. Which meant pinning him down was likely as finding a sincere comment in the court. 

Eron had taken the information in, and let him know a bit about Leliana's warning in regards to Celene's court enchanter. Aside from that, there was nothing immediate that required his attention.

They had left it at that for now, and Dorian saw Eron move past a servant he recognized from Skyhold. One of Leliana's agents? Or one of Eron's? Dorian wasn't entirely sure, but it was comforting to know they had more people on the inside than initially thought. Right now it felt like there was very little to take comfort in. He'd relayed Sera's updated information in regards to the groups of Venatori he was tracking, and Eron told him they'd deal with them personally once they made it back from Orlais. Dorian understood his personal mission couldn't take priority over something like this, but the idea he could lose their trail still left him on edge. 

Having finished his glass of wine, Dorian headed inside for another. He couldn't drink as much as he wanted, but that didn't mean tonight had to be a completely dry affair. As he stepped inside, the renewed smell of lavender perfume hit him harder making his throat itch. It almost felt like he was choking on a cloud of the stuff and he inwardly cursed whatever trend had kicked off that particular concoction. He also became aware of more tittering nobles, though their comments weren't aimed at him. 

“Are you absolutely certain? I understand if you're unsure of the answer.” a noble woman giggled as she stood near Bull, looking up at him from behind her fan. Three other young women stood with her.

“I'm sure. If you stump me, I promise to let you know.” Bull's voice was flat and Dorian inwardly winced. Whenever Bull sounded like that, it was always a sign he was well past exasperated or ready to tear someones head from their shoulders. In this case, it was probably both. 

“Seven is right! You know when the inquisitor first brought you here, I was certain it was a joke. You're quite intelligent for a qunari.”

“Yeah, I'm even house broken too.” Bull sighed. 

Dorian caught the beginnings of a few comments aimed at him from the garden, but this time he found ignoring them easier. He hated the idea of coming here, but he hadn't thought how Bull might react. Or rather he hadn't thought of people's reactions to him. Already newcomers at Skyhold were starting to get snide about a qunari being there and in such close confidence to the inquisitor. Orlais was a whole new level. Here they hadn't even seen him fight, and weren't around many others who had and would shut them up. It likely didn't help Bull's men weren't here, further isolating him during these situations. Comments like these would have landed anyone at least a fat lip at Skyhold or on the field. Dorian wasn't convinced it wasn't going to earn someone that here as well. 

“My turn next! Are these the first set of proper clothes you've owned or do you wear...”

“I can see why you would want some help with clothing, but I'm afraid The Iron Bull is not who I would go to for that.” Dorian interrupted as he strode over and stood by Bull. “Mostly because your annoying.” he said flatly though he kept his voice somewhat low for the inquisitions sake.

The group of four women faced him in shock and outrage. 

“Excuse me? How dare...”

“You know I thought parents brought their children to these events to actually learn something. Not prattle on and bother other guests.”

“We were invited on our own!” one snapped indignantly at him. 

“So were known enemies of the crown. It's not exactly an exclusive list.” he grinned unsure if he was going to get slapped or have something thrown in his face. 

“Don't listen to him. He's the one from Tevinter.” the woman at the head of the group said snidely. “The only reason he probably even came over here is to look for sacrifices.”

“Well we do usually start with the stupid ones. It makes the rest of the night more enjoyable.”

A gloved hand raised to lash out and strike him only to make contact with Bull's arm as he quickly stepped in front of Dorian. 

The sound echoed throughout the room, drawing several pairs of eyes, and Bull's expression shifted to one of confused hurt. 

“I thought you said it was alright if I didn't know the answer. You never said you were going to hit me.” 

The entire situation had changed now, and murmurs began.

“He...that's not what...” the woman had pulled her hand back like it burned.

“Honestly, you're making a rather poor example of yourself.” Dorian chided, now letting his voice carry as he stepped more to Bull's side. “If you're old enough to be here on your own, you're old enough to behave yourselves. If you can't handle that, you really should have politely declined the invitation. Even a Tevinter knows that.”

“I...”

“Come on, lets go. It's clear talking to these two is a waste of our time!” the one standing behind the woman who had struck Bull grabbed her friend and the four flounced off as indignantly as possible. The murmurs still followed. Several people seemed to be ashamed of what they had witnessed, though the scorn was directed at the group that had left rather than at Bull or Dorian.

“Their parents really should have taught them better.”

“My children would never dare do such a thing. They're capable of acting their age.”

“To actually strike him? How horrible. I'm certain the inquisitor will hear about this.”

“It was truly unkind trying to confuse the poor qunari like that.”

Dorian took a breath, trying to keep himself from setting the last commentator alight. The sudden feel of Bull's hand on his shoulder helped.

“Thanks Dorian. You didn't...”

“Truthfully that was the highlight of my evening.” he picked up another glass, handing one to Bull before taking one himself.

“That bad?”

“Boring is the word your looking for. You'd think stopping a coupe would be more exciting.”

“That part will come I'm sure.” Bull muttered though he didn't take a drink as if he were mulling over his next words. “You really didn't have too do that.”

“And you didn't have to try and defend me from a falling wall or act as a shield from a glove. We all make rash decisions.” he waved it away, lowering his voice slightly to conduct business. “Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing yet. You can feel something's going to happen, but the signs are to subtle to pinpoint where it'll start.” he finally took a sip of the wine, eye casually scanning the crowds. “I don't like this. There's to many players, and any one could be the fuse that lights the powder keg.”

Dorian nodded. 

“Did Eron tell you about the court enchanter?”

Bull nodded.

“Vivienne told me first. They've got some history. Nothing good.”

“I suspect that means we should tread especially cautious there.” if someone was an enemy of Vivienne's they were either incredibly powerful or incredibly stupid. Considering Eron's information, Dorian put stock on powerful. 

“Help if we knew what they looked like. All I heard was they don't wear a mask.”

“Hundreds of people aren't wearing masks.” Dorian nodded at the servants walking around. That had always struck Dorian as particularly strange about Orlais. Masks weren't meant to hide as much as they were to stand out. Only those without ones were truly meant to be invisible. Maybe that was another reason their own outfits hadn't come equipped with any. Small mercies. 

Bull only gave a soft hum of acknowledgment to Dorian's statement, then smirked.

“You try the spiced nuts they're serving?”

“What?!” Dorian nearly choked on his drink, looking up sharply at Bull.

Bull nodded at the food on the table behind them.

“They're pretty good. They start sweet, then the heat kicks in. What did you think I was asking about? Again, that dirty mind of yours.”

“Fasta Vas, everything is dirty with you.”

“I asked about food. You're the one starting to go red.”

“It's the terrible wine.” Dorian muttered as chimes began; signifying one of the many dances. 

There were several groups of people moving off towards the main ballroom, and some towards smaller rooms with less structured dancing taking place. For all Orlais faults it had a few redeeming factors. One of which was there were several couples made up of either only men or only women. No one looked at them twice or offered any comment on the pairs. They simply were. He had only seen such a thing happen once in Tevinter when he was seven and being introduced to the social life of the elite. Two women had rebuffed any advances made from male suitors, and spent the entire night either dancing with each other, or at the very least being near the other when they spoke to friends. No one tried to stop them directly, but even then Dorian knew hardly anyone approved.

'Selfish' is the word his father had used later to describe their behavior to a confused Dorian.

He remembered hearing afterwords that two had run away together before any plan to separate them could be enacted. No one knew where they went, but thinking back on it now, he hoped they were happy. He was sure they were. Who knew, they might be dancing somewhere else right now. 

“You ever dance at one of these things?” Bull asked drawing Dorian out of his thoughts. He hadn't realized he'd been staring. 

“A few times. Once I was forced to dance with Livia when our engagement was announced. You know she purposely crushed my foot? I couldn't feel it for a week.” in retrospect Livia must have been as miserable as he had been that night, though it had been a bit hard to sympathize through bruises to all his toes. Of course he'd danced like this once with Rilenius in the seclusion of their room. There had been no music or anyone to see, but it had felt perfect. That was the night he almost asked him to runaway together. According to Cole, he would have said yes. 

Dorian took a long drink, silently toasting lost chances. 

“The best kind of dancing isn't done like this. There are masks of course, but they have more purpose to them. Dancers are more akin to historians then simple entertainers. The Imperium can't agree food is a necessity for everyone, but even Soprati don't lack for a place to see dances performed.”

“You ever been to that place near the Vivazzi Plaza? With the big cracked bell hanging off the roof?”

Dorian nodded, a bit taken aback Bull would know of that particular place. 

“Yes. The dancers there are some of the most celebrated historians in my country. It makes sense after all. Even if one has no inclination towards magic, the ideas of perfect mind and body are still strived for. It's hard to think of many other ways to show such a combination.”

“Did you learn any of those dances?”

“A few when I was younger. The dancing I'm more inclined to is...well it's suited to an audience, but a specific type. Find me ten silk scarves and I'll show you what kind of audience I mean.”

“I think I can guess. Just ten huh?” Bull grinned.

“Ugh. Forget I mentioned that.” he rolled his eyes, but if Bull offered him even one scarf he wasn't opposed to it as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise. “Or you could show me what you've learned. I heard Madame De Fer was teaching you the candlelight waltz.”

Bull groaned, burying his face in one of his hands, muttering something under his breath. 

“I tried to tell her qunari don't do dancing. She told me to stop making excuses.” he sighed. 

“She probably saw you dancing in the tavern and decided to save us all.”

“A bets a bet, and I won that one. Nothing said it had to be like the kind of dancing here.”

“Qunari don't do any dancing then? None at all?” Dorian asked, tilting his head. Of course he knew the propaganda that he'd been fed his whole life, but none of it seemed to match up to the reality. He supposed that was the point of propaganda. 

“Not like this. It's hard to explain.” Bull scratched at his chin as if searching for words before setting his glass down. “It's more learning how to move in sync with others. Less about where the hands go, and more about where the mind goes.”

“So it's meditation?”

“A bit. Here, it'll be easier if I show you.”

Dorian's eyes widened and for a second, he thought Bull was going to ask him to dance. He wasn't entirely sure what his answer would have been. Instead, Bull let his body relax as he stood several feet from Dorian now, moving forwards than back. Bull brought his hands up in front of him, slowly raising one, with his palm downward then sharply flipped it right-side up in a movement almost to fast to see. His other arm followed, this time extending his elbow at a downward angle, his fingers slightly bent as if he were mimicking a claw. His face remained smooth throughout almost as if he were slipping into a trance.

“You have someone to your side instead of in front. The idea is being able to read someone even if you can't see them. Or at least the ones I learned were meant to do that.” he came to a stop. “There are different forms different groups learn. Ben-Hassrath are all about reading people from every angle.”

“It looks more complicated than I thought it would.”

“It...”

“I didn't realize the inquisitor had taught him to dance. Perhaps we should ask if he'd do it again for us.” a whisper from a few people away made Bull's eye twitch.

“I swear if this keeps up, I'm taking someone's skull and making it my fancy party mask.” he growled. 

“Now, Bull, don't do anything rash. I'm the evil mage after all. I kill them, then you dismember them. We have to settle on something that lets us both live up to their stereotypes or it'll be anarchy.” 

There was a pause before Bull laughed; warm and genuine. Dorian himself felt a smile spreading on his face. 

“Deal.” Bull offered his hand and Dorian took it. 

“And people say peace between Tevinter and the Qun is impossible. I think we're setting a perfect example.”

Their peace talks were interrupted as Eron appeared again, this time he was flanked by Varric, Vivienne and a reappeared Cole as he walked by. He passed a note to Bull with barely a movement, only subtly nodding at Dorian. Dorian nodded in understanding and moved towards them as Bull headed off in his own direction and a moment later Cole broke off and headed towards Solas's location. They had been divided into teams before they arrived in order to fan out and contain the threat. Knowing where that threat would manifest before they arrived had been the problem. The paper Bull had been passed likely contained the location he was needed at and would meet the others. 

As Dorian fell into line with the others, he felt his stomach doing several flips. It wasn't their mission, or fear, it was something else entirely. It felt like the shadows themselves were watching him now, and moving closer. That feeling of warning from earlier returned full force, and he was certain he could feel a shift in the Fade. It made his skin prickle in the same way it always did when near a rift.

Maker help them if one of those broke open here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing the banter with Bull and Dorian. The idea for the dancers in Tevinter came from a fun conversation with [Kahlan_Amnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahlan_Amnell) and I really wanted to include that. Make sure to check out their work, it's all so good! Happy New Year everyone!


End file.
